


The Very Secret Diary Of Molly Hooper And The Secrets It Contains

by afteriwake



Series: The Summer Of 100 Surprise Stories - Summer 2018 [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Developing Molly Hooper/Sebastian Moran, Diary/Journal, Drunk Moran, Emotional Sex, Emotions, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Irene Adler, Mentioned Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper Loves Sebastian Moran, POV Sebastian Moran, Pining Moran, Reading, Revelations, Romantic Friendship, Satisfied Sherlock, Sebastian Moran & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sebastian Moran Loves Molly Hooper, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Loves Molly Hooper, Sherlock plays matchmaker, Very Secret Diary, revealing secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: When Sherlock tells him Molly loves Sebastian and to find the diary she hides from him, Sebastian doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to get his hopes up that maybe,maybe, it's true. But once he finds the diary and reads it, he gets so much more than he had ever hoped for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> This was claimed by **Dreamin** for my prompt challenge (" _Who writes a diary/journal in which they confess their feelings for their bestie, who gets a little tipsy and reads it accidentally-onpurpose_ ").

He had no idea why Holmes had invited him to the pub. He wasn’t much of a drinker, not really, and he had it on good authority Holmes was a lightweight. Or at least he had been; Holmes seemed to be holding his liquor rather well right now.

“She loves you, you know.”

Ah. That explained it. They were there to talk about Molly. He knew Sherlock loved her. He just wasn’t _in_ love with her. There was the woman Jim had always hated dealing with. _The_ Woman. There was something between her and Holmes and he wouldn’t even pretend to understand it. Last he had heard from Jim, before it all went to hell and she’d “died,” she’d been on the receiving end of being bested by Holmes. And now they were rather exclusive even if they never spent time together that he could tell. He didn’t understand.

 _Love is love, and you should know because you love Molly,_ the taunting voice in his head said. He usually ignored that voice. He had done the research on Molly before Jim made his play on her, and after he’d been caught and offered the choice to kill for Her Majesty or rot in a deep dark hole, he’d voted to take the freedom. What he ended up doing, though, was babysitting Molly.

Even though he wasn’t in love with her she was damn important to Holmes.

He wasn’t the type to stay in the shadows anymore, not with Molly, and somehow they had gone from wary acquaintances to friends to best mates. He’d always rather hoped it would grow further but that? Well, that was rather wishful thinking on his part.

Or maybe not, if Holmes would elaborate on his point.

But he didn’t. He had more of his drink and remained silent, glancing every once in a while at the telly and the footie match on it. It wasn’t until he was done with the pint that he got up. “Find her diary. The one she hides from me.” He slapped a few notes on the bar and then shrugged. “It will tell you everything you’re too unobservant to see.”

“Fuck you too, Holmes,” Moran said under his breath as he ordered another scotch. If Holmes heard him, he got no reply and the detective made his way out of the pub. And frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t care what Holmes had to say…

...unless it was true.

Then he very much _did_ care.

More than he would ever want to admit.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly was usually very good at hiding things she didn’t want Holmes to see, so how he knew about her diary in the guest bedroom, under the loose floorboard, he had no idea. He’d never spent time in there as far as he could tell; when he’d used her home as a bolt hole before his relationship with The Woman became more exclusive Molly had said Holmes took the main bedroom, her bedroom.

And now...well, it wasn’t really his bolt hole anymore. Not since _he_ started spending more time there.

He liked Molly’s home. He’d be loathed to admit it but cooking had been a hobby he’d put some effort into, so his way of thanking Molly for living a low-key life had been to cook for her. He’d fallen in love with her kitchen before he fell in love with her, and that had amused him at first until his feelings started to get more serious. Mycroft had the ability to go full Iceman, and Holmes could hide his emotions well, even now, but he could give them some pretty serious competition about wearing a facade to mask emotions.

But back to the diary. He tended to spend time in the guest room now because, unlike Holmes, he’d never demand her personal space. Ask for it, maybe, if there was a good reason for it, but the reason had to be good in _his_ eyes and usually amounted to a life or death situation, which seemed to be few and far between with Molly. But he knew the diary was in the room and he never went looking for it because it was hers, and her personal belonging, and he had no right to it.

Manners, he did have them, which seemed to surprise everyone.

But it was more than that. If there were thoughts she wanted to keep private than that was her right; he enjoyed her time and company and the thoughts she did share but he wasn’t about to foist himself on her life if she didn’t want it. He was there to protect her and through the job he’d come to care for her as a friend, and as more than a friend, but she set the rules. She set the limits. And he obeyed them.

Which is why he felt like shite at the moment, letting himself into the guest bedroom and looking for exactly where the floorboard was. He knew the general area, but he’d had a bit more to drink after Holmes had left. Not enough to make him completely befuddled; he wouldn’t do that to himself or Molly, so long as there were enemies at play, but enough his thoughts were just a tad bit fuzzier than normal.

He was trying to do it without making much of a ruckus, and he succeeded after ten minutes, pulling up the board and seeing the simple black journal in the space under the floor. Nothing really made it like a diary; there was no lock on it, nothing on the cover except a raised fleur-de-lis, but this had to be it. Once again he wondered how Holmes knew about it but only vaguely before he put the floorboard back in place and settled on the bed to read.

It was interesting that it wasn’t very full of writing. It only went back roughly a few years, after the event at Sherrinford when he had come into the picture. Ostensibly it had been to keep Molly safe from any further attempts from their sister, like a glorified babysitting job, but he’d heard what had happened there. He had been around Jim after he met her. He took the assignment very seriously because frankly, Eurus Holmes scared the shite out of him, and that was saying something.

The first part was just general feelings about Holmes and the situation with a phone call, how she knew he loved her and she loved him but it just wouldn’t work. She didn’t want to share him, and he loved someone else too. He skimmed past all of that until he saw the first mention of his own name.

_Sebastian I met once, before all of this. I had no idea he knew Moriarty or worked for him, he’d just seemed to be a nice repairman and...well, I’d have to say I fancied him a bit. But now I know the truth and I’m not sure. But then, I know how Moriarty was. Maybe not well, because he fooled me, but there’s something about Sebastian where I think we can at least be friendly if I can just get over... **that.**_

Interesting.

He skimmed forward a bit more, seeing a bit more about Holmes and then seeing his name again, a longer entry this time.

_I honestly can’t remember the last time someone made me a home-cooked meal. Anyone at all, not just a bloke. But Sebastian made this amazing chicken Alfredo with what I swear was a homemade garlic cream sauce, and it had a variety of mushrooms and grilled onions and it’s honestly the best Italian food I’ve ever eaten. No offense to practically every Italian restaurant I’ve been to, but it was divine._

_I rather like Sebastian. I was right in that he can be friendly, even if he’s so serious all the time. It comes from his past, I suppose. Not the assassin stuff, but being in the military. But he’s got a lovely smile and I may try really hard to make him laugh in the future because it’s such a nice sound. Hopefully, he won’t grow to think I’m boring and dull like every other man who knows me has. Well, except maybe Sherlock, but that didn’t exactly work out now did it._

He smiled a bit at that and then flipped forward, skimming through other entries involving him. He remembered some of the things she talked about quite well; they were vividly seared into his head. But he was perhaps halfway through the written portions of the journal when an entry caught his eye.

_I had to take a cold shower this morning. Frigidly cold, like ice on the skin. And even after I considered using the vibrator if I hadn’t thought he’d hear it in the guest bedroom and he would **know** I was thinking about him as I used it. I don’t know how it happened but I keep having these dreams of Sebastian doing the most deliciously naughty things to me. I wonder if he’s as skilled in real life as he is in my fantasies. If he’d touch me or kiss me or do anything to show he thinks of me that way too I’d probably shag him on the spot._

While there were other entries of a similar vein it struck him that he must have skipped past entries where she changed how she felt towards him. He went back in and settled in to read, but found himself growing tired. Dammit all, he could hold his liquor better than this, but it had been a long day, and he could get back to the diary after a short nap...


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up not to find the diary under his hand but his hand on the mattress, balled up in a fist, and his arm around a warm body currently tossing and turning a bit. It took him seconds to realize it was Molly and she was having a nightmare. He tightened his hold on her, murmuring that she was safe, it was just a dream and he would protect her near her ear, occasionally pressing kisses in her hair. Soon Molly relaxed, and he realized she had woken up when she pried his fist open to grasp his hand. “Molly…” he said, realizing his mouth felt like it had cotton stuffed in it, but she shook her head, cuddling into him more. He took that as a signal to be quiet and keep her close.

It was a few long minutes later that she spoke. “I should throttle Sherlock, but this is a nice way to wake up from a bad dream.”

“I imagine you'd planned it differently,” he said.

“A bit, yeah, but honestly I was exhausted and then I thought I should be upset at the diary...not at you, though, I realize Sherlock just wants me to be happy but they were my private thoughts!” She shook her head again and turned in his arms. “But I wasn't mad at you and I went to take the diary back but you pulled me against you and I just...decided to stay.” She reached up her hand to let her fingers gently caress his face. “Will you stay, too?”

He nodded, leaning forward and kissing her nose. “Yeah, I'll stay.”

“Good.” She hesitated a moment, then shifted her position slightly to press herself against him and kiss him properly. He settled into the kiss, keeping it light and languid, using his hand to run it up and down along her spine, his fingers trailing there lightly. Soon she pressed against him more to deepen the kiss and he let his fingers slide under the bottom of her top, touching her warm skin.

Soon enough she went to the buttons on his shirt, undoing the ones she could reach while they were close and then, it seemed, reluctantly pulling back to finish unbuttoning his shirt. He broke the kiss and nudged her up slightly to pull her shirt off. It was then he realized she was in her pyjamas and she didn’t have a bra on, and he found his mouth watering as he looked down at her breasts. When his hands were free of the shirt he gently ran a finger along the curve of her breast before moving her hands away from his now open shirt and gently pushing her onto her back.

He hovered over her for a moment and looked down at her as her hands moved up to frame his face. “You’re beautiful,” he said before dipping his head down and kissing her collarbone and then moving lower until his lips latched onto a pert rosy nipple. She arched up, her fingers moving into his hair and scratching his scalp. He lavished the breast with his attention for a few moments, adding his teeth to nip and tug slightly, eliciting soft moans from Molly. The moans continued as he moved his attention to the other breath until she pulled his head up by grasping his hair.

He didn’t lean up to kiss her again, though, moving lower and pressing kisses and occasional small bites on her stomach until his lips hit the band of her pyjama bottoms. He carefully hooked his fingers into the waistband and peeled them and her knickers off of her, leaving her naked under his gaze. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined, and he had a rather extensive imagination when it came to Molly.

He began to press kisses up her left thigh until he got to her core. The musky smell was overpowering and so tantalizing and he knew he needed to have a taste of her essence. He carefully parted her folds and swiped his tongue up. The moan that came up from Molly’s throat was low and rumbled through her, and he smiled against her, beginning to tease her with his tongue and fingers.

“Seb...oh my Lord, Seb,” she said, beginning to squirm under his ministrations. He knew she was close and he wanted her to come at least once from this before he entered her. He could feel his cock twitch at the thought of burying himself in her warmth but first, her pleasure was primary.

She nearly squeaked a bit when she came, her breath hitching as she got closer and closer to orgasm, and when she was done he quickly shed himself of his clothing, being careful to take the condom he had on him just in case out. He rolled it onto his cock and then slowly entered her, still feeling some of the ripples of her orgasm. She felt good, better than he had ever expected, and when he hovered over her, fully settled inside of Molly, she pulled him in for a deep kiss.

And then he began to move. He felt her lift her legs up and wrap them around his hips, her heels thumping his arse with each stroke, and he broke the kiss to hear her moans and hitching breath as he took his time. He wanted this to be memorable, to let her know he’d make sure it was always like this and he would worship the hell out of her if she wanted.

Her breath began to hitch and he increased the speed and depth of his strokes, being careful not to slam into her as much as he wanted to. When she began to tighten around him he knew he was going to come soon so he surged one more time and spilled his seed into the condom as Molly gasped, digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

After a moment he collapsed on top of her and she began stroking his back as he pressed soft kisses to her neck. “Still want to throttle Holmes?” he asked, murmuring the words against her skin.

“No,” she replied. “That was...that was amazing, Seb.”

“That was just a taste,” he said. “I’ll do better next time.”

“I can’t wait,” she said as he reluctantly pulled away, pulling out of her. He went and disposed of the condom and then went back to the bed. “We should clean up.”

“I think a shower might be a good idea,” he said, putting his arms under her. She smiled and curled into him as he carried her towards her room and the better loo.

“Mmm, I don’t know if I can stand,” she said, pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“Bath is just as good,” he said, pausing to nudge her head up to kiss her properly. He hated it but he really did owe Holmes a favour for this. This was better than he had ever hoped it could be, and that was saying something.


End file.
